Their first class of the new school year was herbology, a class which they shared with the Hufflepuffs. Dudley, Dean and Ron chatted as they waited for Professor Sprout to arrive. Finally she did, accompanied, to Dudley's surprise, by Professor Lockhart.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

"Hello there," Lockhart beamed. "Just been showing Professor Sprout how to harvest honking daffodils. But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have used several of these plants in my travels—used in many tonics to boost vitality."

"Actually," Professor Sprout butted in. "The honking daffodil has no healing properties whatsoever. Though, I find a few ground leaves added to a beverage gives it a much needed kick."

Lockhart looked irritated at being corrected. His face quickly became pleasant again. "Quite right, quite right! I was thinking of something else. Don't know what I was thinking."

He spotted Dudley and smiled broadly. "Catch the Prophet, Dudley? We made the front page, just like I said. Swing by the office, I'll autograph a copy for you."

Ron snickered. "Going to go and get his autograph, Big D?"

"Shut up." Dudley gave him a half-playful shove. "Maybe I should start getting the Prophet though, it would've been good to see myself on the front page."

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before - greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door.

Dudley, Dean and Ron got a table of their own. Working beside them were Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie MacMillan.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear muffs were lying on the bench. "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand shot up again.

Behind her back, Dudley did an impression of her, leaping up like a rabbit which made Dean laugh.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Dursley," Sprout said immediately. "Go ahead, Granger."

Hermione shot Dudley a nasty look and continued. "The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.

"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to Dudley, who didn't have the slightest idea what Hermione meant by the "cry" of the Mandrake.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair. Dudley gave Seamus a punch in ribs, knocking him out of the way of the last pair left which wasn't pink or fluffy.

Seamus looked disgruntled. He looked ludicrous in the bright pink, fluffy earmuffs.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on ."

Dudley snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Dudley let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

As they filled their pots with compost, Dudley could hear Finch-Fletchley talking about Lockhart to Ernie. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and - zap - just fantastic."

"Prat," Dudley muttered. With Sprout distracted, he walked past Finch-Fletchley and shoved a handful of compost down the back of his robes.

"Hey!" Finch-Fletchley started, then stopped when he saw it was Dudley.

"Why'd you do that?" Ron laughed.

"He annoys me," Dudley said with a shrug. "Awfully brave chap," he mimicked, speaking in a faux posh accent.

After that they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Dudley spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the end of the class, Dudley, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. Everything Dudley had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of his head during the summer. He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all he managed to do was give his beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desktop avoiding his wand.

Ron's beetle seemed to be almost dead. It was on its back, its legs twitching feebly as he poked it gently with his wand. Dean's meanwhile seemed to have vanished. He was searching for it, unsure whether it had escaped or if he'd accidentally turned it invisible.

Dudley's mood was not improved by lunch when he overheard Hermione showing off to Lavender and Parvati the handful of perfect coat buttons she had made.

"Alright, Dursley," a drawling voice greeted them at the entrance to the Great Hall.

"What do you want?" Ron said, looking at Malfoy as if he was something to avoid stepping in.

"Oddly enough, Weasel, it was you I wanted to see. Have you seen today's Daily Prophet?"

"No," said Ron.

"Am I in it?" Dudley wondered out loud, remembering what Lockhart had said about making the front page.

Draco smirked and began to read from a story in the middle.

"Ministry Worker Suspended After Bookstore Brawl" he read.

"Archibald Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office was suspended from work yesterday for his part in a brawl which took place last week at Florish and Blotts during a book signing by Gilderoy Lockhart—the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.

Multiple eyewitnesses saw Archibald Weasley assault Mr. Lucius Malfoy—a notable figure in the wizarding community who has gifted to many noteworthy causes, owns a chain of apothecaries and is one of the Hogwarts governors. Mr. Malfoy went to St. Mungo's for treatment on a minor eye injury. After an investigation, the Ministry has decided to put Mr. Weasley on an unpaid suspension pending further disciplinary action.

"The Ministry can't be seen to allow its workers to assault upstanding members of the community and get away with it," an unnamed Ministry source said when asked about the decision to suspend Weasley. "I expect further action will be taken."

Draco said all of this in a loud voice so everybody nearby could hear. Ron was flushing and his fists clenched

"Imagine, your father being such a useless waste of space that the paper doesn't even get his name right," Malfoy sneered.

Ron moved, as if to go and punch Malfoy. Dudley close behind, his fists also raised.

"What's going on?" a voice said. It was Lockhart.

He looked first from Ron and then to Draco, and then to Dudley and smiled.

"Malfoy was insulting, Ron's family Professor," Dudley said, quickly. He had suddenly recognized that Lockhart seemed to like him and that he could take advantage of that.

"Indeed?" Lockhart raised his eyebrows. "Then we shall say, five points from Slytherin shall we? Now, off to the Great Hall. Dudley, a word."

Dudley followed Lockhart to a less crowded area.

"A word of advice, Dudley, it's not a good image to go brawling in public." Lockhart tutted. "Not good publicity to be frank, you don't want to become known as a hooligan."

"No professor," Dudley said.

"Of course, a bit of a ruckus can be good publicity. That scuffle between that your friend's father was in added a bit of spice to the story, But never get involved yourself Dudley." He gave a knowing wink and walked off.

"What did Lockhart once?" Ron asked.

"He seems to think I want to be famous," Dudley said slowly. "He gave me tips on how to behave in public. Said fighting isn't a good image."

"Why?" Ron demanded.

"I guess because of Dudley appearing in the Prophet about stopping Quirrell," Dean guessed. "Old Lockhart now thinks Big D is hungry for more."

"We'll be seeing your face on shampoo bottles soon, Dud," Ron snickered.

"As long as they pay me, they can stick my face anywhere," Dudley replied, taking a bite out of his sausage.

Being famous did have a certain appeal, Dudley thought as he ate. With fame came money and glory—Lockhart was evidence of that with his expensive clothes and dazzling teeth. He hadn't been aware that his exploits last year had become widely known, but it seemed the Daily Prophet had reported on it, and Dudley supposed it was quite a big deal—an 11-year-old boy stopping a dark wizard from stealing the Philosopher's Stone. He made up his mind to seek the article out one day and have a read.

As Dudley was thinking about this, he felt a poke on his shoulder.

"Oh, it's you?" he grunted, recognizing Colin Creevey.

"Is it true that last year you stopped a dark wizard from stealing the Philosopher's Stone? That's what one of the paintings told me." Dudley gaped at him. He had just been thinking about how that had become a big deal and here was proof of it. He was also surprised that Colinw as having chats with paintings—that was odd.

"Huh, yeah, I did. Though it was Voldemort, not just a dark wizard, right guys?"

"Coo!" said Colin, his eyes bulging.

"Yeah, well, we all helped," Ron said, a little irritably.

"Ron beat McGonagall's massive chess set," Dudley said, enjoying having an audience for the tale, even if that audience did just consist of Colin Creevey. "And Neville there, he beat Sprout's Devil's Snare."

Colin stared in awe at Neville who looked embarrassed and smiled shyly.

"And what about you?" he asked Dean.

Dudley grinned. "Yeah, what brave act did you do Dean?" Dudley said, teasingly.

"Shut it, Big D," Dean said, throwing a chip at him.

Dudley laughed. "Course, I did the most. I smacked Voldy right on the nose. Bang!" He pounded his fist in his palm.

Colin walked away awestruck.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you put up with him."

Dudley shrugged. "We beat Voldemort," he replied. "We'd be idiots not to milk that for all it's worth."

"That's a point," Ron mused. "Here, Lavender—did I tell you all about us stopping Quirrell and You-Know-Who from stealing the Philosopher's Stone?" he called across the table.